


Comfort

by Eclipse218



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Bittersweet, Comfort Sex, M/M, Sex, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclipse218/pseuds/Eclipse218
Summary: Dealing with Seifer's moods is, somehow, a non-written clause in their relationship's agreement.
Relationships: Seifer Almasy/Squall Leonhart
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> OK, you already read the tags: comfort sex (not the healthiest one out there), man x man and all that jazz.

Squall entered the rented apartment ( _and tripped on his own feet out of sheer exhaustion when he tried to step out of his unlaced boots_ ) to find most of his team members scattered on the floor directly in front of the TV. His tired mind employed a few seconds to analyze the scene before him and to realize who was missing. As he dragged his feet to the drinks’ cabinet he muttered a half-assed “ _Hey_.” That was replied with equally sluggish greetings from the others, and a hush from Irvine.

Walking up to them with a bottle of water in his hand, he looked at the TV screen to find out that they were watching some kind of documentary about the Sorceress war. He briefly wondered how would SeeDs be depicted in this one. Taking a seat beside Zell, he asked:

“Where is the Almasy?”

He wasn’t prepared for the flood of aggravated replies. Everybody switched their attention off the screen to shower him with complains and warnings because it was one of those Seifer days, Zell stated, and it was self-explanatory enough. Judging from what he could make out from the five of them talking at the same time, Seifer had snapped at them, had prodigally delivered scornful remarks to regard everybody’s ears, had refused to eat, had kicked their belongings, had sent the shower gel flying (hitting with frightening accuracy Zell’s forehead) and had finally retreated into his _dent_ closing the door with a loud slam.

That had been two hours ago. Squall raised his eyebrows and leaned forward to take some snacks from the bowl closest to him.

“What are you going to do, Squall?” Quistis asked sternly.

“Hn?” Squall filled his mouth with snacks and didn’t continue till he had swallowed most of it “I’m going to watch this shit with you, guys, that’s what I’m going to do.”

And he stubbornly attached his gaze to the TV. The others gradually followed his example and not another word about the fastidious gunblader was exchanged.

Squall idly wondered what was it this time. Seifer’s dark moods were recurrent and had elicited some of the worst fights among the team, him included ( _or, to be closer to the truth, him being responsible of some of the most intense ones_ ). He wished it wasn’t one of his “ _I’m lost_ ” moods ( _his darkest_ ), because those were particularly difficult to deal with. It demanded a lot of attention from Squall to detect all the subtle signs and the only reason why he was good in dealing with Seifer at those times was because he had walked most of his life on those shoes himself.

He mechanically munched down on the snacks while he replayed in his head the day’s events. They had been training with their weapons early in the morning ( _Seifer had been energetic and okay_ ) then they had eaten lunch at a pizza shop ( _and Seifer couldn’t possibly be happier_ ), then they had split and he had lost track of the other for the rest of the day. What had been on Seifer’s schedule? Some class about theory of magic and some minor monster hunt after that, if Squall remembered right. He wondered if the instructor accompanying them had stomped on Seifer’s ego for his role during the War, _again_.

He came back to the present when the members stirred and got up, the final credits rolling up on the screen, someone asking to him “ _What hour tomorrow?”_ and he mechanically answering “7 _a.m.”._ Selphie patted his shoulder, wishing him good night in a tired voice, before making her way into the room she shared with Quistis. Irvine and Zell were already out of view. Squall paid a visit to the bathroom and like if all of that had only been an intermission in his life, he found himself stepping into his shared bedroom, alert, with all his senses focused on the here and now.

He didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust to the dim light as the room arrangement was simple enough for him to walk to his bed without switching the light on. However, there were random objects lying scattered on the floor: Seifer’s gunblade case and a handful of random items and devices that the other had left at inconvenient places because _hurry_ was always his premise and because he really didn’t care if their room was a mess. So, after his toes made painful contact with a heavy object, he decided to turn on the lights, and he was surprised to find Seifer sitting in the dark in the middle of the room, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his head, and his back turned to him.

“Switch off the lights.” The blonde commanded in a low, deep voice, and Squall flicked the switch off without thinking.

He heard Seifer getting up and moving towards him, and he retreated till his back made contact with the door. Seifer’s hands reached for him, arms circling his waist and head resting on his shoulder. Squall lifted his arms slowly, not sure of how to proceed without knowing what the hell had provoked this particular mood in his partner. Cautiously, he hugged him, and he felt Seifer’s grip on him tighten.

“I was waiting for you, Leonhart.” Seifer mumbled against his neck “… you are an asshole.”

“Came back an hour ago. I was watching TV with the others.” Squall caressed Seifer’s back with his fingers and he could feel the other shivering against him.

“Asshole” Seifer repeated, switching on the small lamp near the bed. Every color looked faded under the dim, cold light of the small lamp, painting Seifer in grey tones that added significantly to his overall gloomy attitude and expression. He pulled the hood back, and strands of light yellow fell disheveled and messy, covering his forehead. It was a look that worked for Squall, but on Seifer, it made him look _wasted_ “I needed to talk.” The hoarseness in his voice made Squall wonder if the other had been crying and that made him feel horribly guilty.

“I’m here now.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

And Squall gave in to the soft touches, to the tugs on his clothing, to Seifer pushing him down on his bed, mumbling absurdities like “ _You are so warm._ ”, “ _I need to touch all of you._ ”, and the worst one, that almost made him run away: “ _Let me do you.”_

Out of all the things they had shared, the intimacy, the forbidden intercourses, the curious exploring of their bodies, this one, comfort sex, was the only one that Squall Leonhart abhorred.

Because, from his point of view, it solved nothing, it was born from the wrong reasons, and it made him feel used and _stupid_. It worked for Seifer, though, and it was one of those rare occasions were who was on top and who got his ass owned was implicit. No last minute discussions, no stopping to count down “ _Hey, your stupid dick was up my ass twice on a row!”_

Biting down on his lower lip to contain a whimper when Seifer pushed inside of him with just the minimal preparation, Squall reached with his arms to pull him down in a kiss and the selfish bastard got away from his hold and whispered:

“Are you serious? Don’t be a princess, Leonhart.”

The pain at this sudden rejection had to be obvious on his face ( _he was more tired than he thought_ ), because the next second Seifer was caressing his forehead, running his palm softly down his cheek. And then, like if he had suddenly made up his mind, he leant in to leave a hurried peck on Squall’s lips.

The commander snorted loudly, but then he had to brace himself, one hand on the wall near them, the other holding onto Seifer’s biceps, while the other rocked in and out of him at a steadily increasing rhythm. Lifting his hips to meet up with his partner’s thrusts, Squall looked up with half lidded eyes and sneakily studied Seifer’s features. The only thing he could read there was concentration and lust.

Once again, Seifer was avoiding his problems and letting his frustration loose in the less appropriate of all fashions. It was wrong, from Squall’s perspective, but he understood that every one of them dealt with life’s shitty events in their own way.

And it was his duty as the commander to comprehend his comrades’ motivations and to adapt to their different needs. Quistis wanted space, Selphie needed to be listened, Zell to let out steam, Rinoa sometimes needed to cry and Irvine sought advice most of the time.

And Seifer…

Squall raised his hand, and slid his thumb over Seifer’s lower lip. The blond moaned softly and fastened the pace of his thrusts.

Seifer was talented and fragile. It scared him sometimes how one of SeeD’s aces could be so emotional and moody to the extent that it affected both his fighting skill and their teamwork.

Heavily shuddering, Seifer came inside him with a final forceful thrust, and let his weight fall on Squall, retreating from him with a sudden move that made the commander whimper.

“Hey, Leonhart.” He panted, and stood silent for a while. Squall waited patiently till Seifer completed his sentence, curling up tightly against him “Can I sleep here with you?”

It wasn’t what Squall was expecting and he frowned lightly as he silently rearranged his clothing _(finding a huge tear in his shirt that made his frown deepen further)_. He hadn’t found any pleasure in their exchange, and he surely could use a bit of stimulation and love himself. He felt disappointed and angered at Seifer’s lack of consideration. But then he remembered that, tonight, it was all about Seifer, and not about him.

“OK.” He replied, ruffling Seifer’s hair, just because he knew it would annoy him.

He couldn’t see it clearly in the dim lighted room but he could feel Seifer’s wide smile when the older nuzzled his neck before dropping a kiss on his skin, muttering a _“_ You are so easy, Leonhart _.”_

Squall could feel a bitter taste of disgust for what they had done lingering in his mouth, and he inwardly cursed himself for letting this happen, for allowing himself to being _used_. He almost pushed the blond out of the bed but he caught himself a mere second before he actually did it. A move like that would start a fight yes or yes, and all he had endured in Seifer’s behalf would go to waste, and they both would feel upset and irritated and, over all, frustrated.

Questioning the healthiness of their relationship, he made room for Seifer at his right side and let his former rival circle his waist with his arm. Seifer brought him closer and Squall accommodated to his demands allowing Seifer to relocate themselves in the narrow bed however he wanted.

He gradually relaxed in Seifer’s hold, but sleep eluded him, his mind refusing to shut down to allow him a much deserved rest.

“I’m sorry.”

Squall didn’t move, didn’t show any sign that he have heard Seifer’s whisper and kept his body relaxed and his breathing controlled.

“I’m such an idiot. I don’t know where that came from.” A pause, and then a shaky “I’m sorry. No one should treat you like this. You deserve better. You…”

The rest of Seifer’s tirade went missing, his next words unintelligible, but Squall could still feel the movement of his lips against his hair for a few seconds. He had to make a conscious effort to not let out any sign that he had actually listened to Seifer’s heartfelt apology. The tone of his voice was one he didn’t like to hear in his former rival: full of regret and self-loathe.

And then Seifer let out a shaky breath and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. His arms tightened for a second around Squall and he abandoned himself to sleep.

But sleep eluded Squall for the rest of the night.


End file.
